Too Young To Know
by xXLunamoonXx
Summary: So this story is about a girl named Islea Nomadia Wolfgang, a not-so-small high elven girl with no known lineage. Living on a mill for the first part of her life, everything changes when bandits raid her home. Captured, she's forced to make some decisions she's not proud of. Her journey begins there.
1. Chapter 1

I was just another girl. Never in my life had I imagined anything but the mill. It was all I ever knew, all I ever wanted, it was my home. I grew up on a small farm in the middle of the marshes south of Solitude. My Mother and Father were lumber jacks, my brothers, Mal and Korgak, were lumber jacks, and so I was to be a lumber jack too. I was just a little girl living with her family of five. Father would work the big trees on top of the mill, loading the trunks into the slot and then pulling the lever to cut them in half. Korgak and Mal were in charge of chopping down nearby trees, as well as planting down double what they cut. I was in charge of chopping the firewood. I also helped Mother cook, clean, and I practiced magic and alchemy when I had spare time. I also worked on my archery, but of course I did it away from the mill, because if Mother or Father ever found out that I was anywhere near a weapon, I wouldn't have dinner for two weeks. That mill, the river, the small cliff that my brothers would always jump into the water from, the summer heat, the sweating and muscle growth that summer provided, it was all that I knew. It was my home, my world, my life.

I'm 23 now, and it was 13 years ago, when I was 10, that my life completely changed. Had I known then that right now I would be what I am, I wouldn't have believed it. I'm purposely leaving you in the blue, so there is a reason to tell my story. This is where it all begins, in that small mill just south of Solitude, on a hot summer's day. Sweat dripping down my back. I remember that, in my ten year old body, I was already as tall as a grown breton man. Being the high elf that I was, I was used to my brothers always teasing me about being a woman before it was my time. I remember chopping wood on a tree trunk, splitting wood in half like I always had. It was my second year in the lumber business. Father was off selling his wooden goods in Solitude, Morthal, and Markarth, so he would be gone for just about two months, he would come back empty handed, but loaded with gold, which he then used to upgrade the mill, replace supplies and furniture, and any other essentials that we ran out of in the rest of the year, when we were secluded from the world.

Year after year I would beg father to take me with him to see the world. See the cities, see the people. Socialize and find out what true society was like, but each year he would tell me no.

"It's too dangerous, Islea. Too may people would love a pretty girl like yourself as a maid, slave, or worse," he would explain to me. He would always give me a big hug, then leave me behind.

"But why, father? I can handle myself. Weapons aren't hard, and I'm sure I could help you sell more items and stuff. Please, Father, I'm begging you. I'm so sick of being here at this mill, stuck with no place to go. I'm always so lonely. Please, just this one time? Please?" He would sigh, but even with my pleading, he still said no.

So, just three days after he left, I found myself at the top of the cliff, sitting with my feet dangling off the edge. It was my lunch break, so I had taken my meal of bread and cheese up to the cliff to sit and contemplate why Father didn't want me with him.

I was jerked from my thoughts with a blood-curtling scream. It sounded like mother. I stood, knocking my food over and whirling around to look at the mill. The other side of the house was on fire, and there were men with weapons, about half a dozen, crawling all over the mill. Some were carrying sacks out of the home, one of them had a sack with one of my brothers in it, and then I saw it.

Right outside the door layed a charred body. One that was the exact height as Korgak. Mal was in the sack. Korgak was dead. God knows what happened to Mother. Father was nowhere to be seen. I was the only survivor.

I heard a shout, some dwarven language, and looked to the mill house, where I saw a man looking and pointing at me. Suddenly, all of the men's attention was on me. I gathered all the food I could in a split second, and ran.

I don't know for how long I ran. I barely made it in time to gather my bow and six arrows, and keep running to a destination unknown. I was pretty sure I was heading NorthEast, but I wasn't certain. I heard shouting behind me, and I turned just in time to see five men after me, hot on my tail. The adrenalin was pumping through my veins at full speed now and I could feel the blood hot in my cheeks. My mind was blurry with grief, fear, and anger. Where was Father when you needed him, huh? If he had just once let me go with him, I wouldn't have been there to see Krognak killed!

But there was nothing to do now. The men were slowly gaining on me. That's when I saw it. Just on the edge of the marsh's forest, sat a small ragged cabin. I ran faster and faster, the back of my throat burning and dry. I reached the door within agonizing minutes, fiddling with the door to open. Finally, I just stood back and busted it down. Then, when I realized I had just trapped myself, I quickly took a beaten down dresser from the corner of the shack, and shifted it in front of the door. I couldn't stop there. I took a few broken chairs and put them beside the dresser, I flipped the table and set it in the corner, jumping behind it, holding my bow equipped with an arrow just over the edge of the table, ready to shoot when the men came.

But they didn't.

I waited. Minute after agonizing minute for the furniture to be beaten down, for the men to fill the room. To shoot them down with epic force. But none of it came. The furniture wasn't beaten, the men didn't come... I didn't shoot.

For quite a while I waited. Until, through the cracks in the ceiling, I found the sun going down. It was midday when I ran from that mill, and now the sun was already at it's end. It must be around 6:30 PM, so they must have given up already. I slowly and cautiously step over the tipped table. Quietly removing the furniture from the door, I peer out the narrow doorway. I set a toe outside, barely sticking my nose out to look around. I take another step when I think it's safe. Then another. I stood about a foot from the door. That's when I felt a blunt object on the back of my head, and everything went black. Something had happened, and I didn't know what. But I'm sure I'm going to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

My vision is blurred and my head hurts like hell. I try to open my eyes, but the moment the light hits them, I cringe. I close them again, and shift slightly. It's then that I realize that I'm bound, with my wrists above my head, my knees on the ground, and the rusty iron metal constraints have given me ugly sores already. My knees hurt from being held on the cold stone ground for so long. It's blindingly cold and the walls and floors are made of stone. But that light isn't natural. Nothing that bright could be natural. It hurts too much.

I attempt to open my eyes again. The light hurts, so I hang my head and try again. It's easier now, and with the slow attempts to open my eyes, they eventually open fully. Slowly raising my head, the light comes into focus. A small levitating ball of bright magelight hangs in the air, giving a blueish whitish glow to the room. Looking around, I notice small drops of mildew and water dribbling down on the walls, and the occasional drip from the ceiling. The small music noise of the drops on the stone floor make a beautifully disturbing sound. Moss hangs on the walls and mushrooms grow in the corners. I turn my head to look at my hands, when I notice I'm not in my usual breeches and linen shirt. I'm in a rough-spun sack and my shoes are nowhere to be seen.

"So the little guttersnipe has finally awoken from her slumber. You can sleep for quite a while, young one." A voice pierces through the sound of steady water droplets. It's a boy. He had a husky voice, one that made me shutter. An outline of a man came through the doorway at the other side of the small stone room. He was tall, had red hair and a beard. He wore armor made of iron and fur, and had a huge weapon on his back. As he approached me he knelt down. I sank away, my heart beating with fear. "No reason to be afraid young one. I wont do anything to you... yet." He chuckled and gripped my chin. I shook my head away from his filthy tough calloused hands. He was manly and strong. And I have to admit, he was quite appealing to me. But that didn't matter. Though I was 10 years old then, I was already considered a woman because of my height and stature. I already had built up muscle from the few years of labor I had done. "Strong one aren't you?" He said, gripping my arms with his tough hands.

I heard more footsteps down the hall, and another tall and slender figure appears in the doorway. "Normak, stop pestering the poor thing. She's probably scared out of her wits and sore and hungry. I don't know why The Master insists on keeping her locked up when we could just give her a warm pile of hay instead, but orders are orders. Now stop touching her and get her some food like you were supposed to."

Normak, the man who knelt beside me turned, standing and walking up to a wooden bar in the corner of the small room. He picked up a wooden plate that held a small slice of bread and a tiny slice of meat that was smeared with butter. It actually looked really good, and my stomach growled at the thought. I hung my head, slightly embarrassed at the sudden noise that my entrails produced. The two men only laughed. It wasn't until the tall one brought the food that I got a good look at him. He looked a lot like me, with yellowed skin, he was tall and very handsome. His eyes were a deep orangeish redish color, and he made my heart race with something other than fear. He picked up a slightly rusty fork, cut a small piece of meat with it, and held it to my mouth. But as much as I wanted to chomp down on everything he held before me, I clenched my mouth closed and sank away again. I may be young, but I was no fool.

"Come now, eat. There's no reason for a woman like you to starve herself." He offered the food again. "You can trust me, I promise." I was tempted. And so, tediously, I bit the piece of meat and it melted in my mouth. Chewing slowly, I watched him cut another piece, and feed it to me. Seeing me eat made him smile. And, in return, after I was done chewing, I smiled back. He was a delight to see. He made me feel safe in this unfamiliar place. Maybe it was because he was a lot like me, maybe it's just because he was one of the first people I had seen right after what had happened the last time I was awake.

"You have such a beautiful smile, my young one." He held the side of my face gently. I could tell the tips of his fingers were calloused from the use of a bow, and slightly burnt from magika use. Just like me. I was happy to meet someone like him. "I bet your voice is just as beautiful as the maiden. Tell me, what's your name?"

My eyes sank, my smile disappeared, and my head drooped again. He was using food to gain my trust and learn some deep secret that my family held or something. Like that book I had read about torture to get what you wanted. Well, I would have none of it. I let my body relax, and the chains of my restraints rattled. My body drooped, and I interacted with the attractive man no longer.

"Oh, come on, what's wrong? I told you you could trust me, didn't I? It was just a harmless question." He coaxed me to tell him my name. I still didn't trust him. After a few more minutes of him trying to get me to speak, he gave up, and slammed the food back on the bar, leaving. "Normak, watch the girl for tonight. I'm going to retire for the evening." The man stood by the door.

"Okay, Iman, but make sure to take my shift within two hours, otherwise I'll just fall asleep right at this spot." He chuckled and leaned against the doorway, opening a book and reading silently.

That's when I drift into oblivion, and a restless sleep.

I didn't know what time it was, but I woke to soft words being exchanged. Normak and Iman were standing in the doorway, softly talking to each other. I faked sleep to eavesdrop on their conversation. Any information on where I am, what time it is, or how to get out could be essential if I'm to ever make it out alive.

"I don't know, Normak, she's just really attractive to me."

"Iman, you have no idea how old she is. She could be freaking 15 for all you know. And that's way too young for a man like you."

"What's the difference between 46 and 15? Age is just a number. We're both young elves, we're both going to live for a very long time. There's been elves with hundreds of years between them."

"Now you're just being stupid. Elves have a long lifespan, yes, but how many elves really live that long anyway? There's always battles, poison, disease. There is rarely an elf in the world older than 100." said the man. I realized that I had seen nothing like him before. His skin was pale, and didn't have a yellowish tint like the us folk. Apparently Iman and I were something called "elves" and Normak was a "Nord" whatever that meant.

"It's not stupid to dream about something. She's young and beautiful and if I work at it, I could make it work. I mean, it's not like she has any reason to live, what with almost all of her family dead."

A whimper escapes my throat, one that I had tried to hold back since that day that they were lost. The two men jump up, grabbing at the hilts of their weapons.

"Oh relax, Normak, she was just murmuring in her sleep. It's kind of cute, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Iman. Now you're sounding creepy. I'm going off to bed while you take this shift. Don't do anything stupid. The gatekeeper will be here soon to escort her to one of the rooms, so don't fall asleep or it'll look bad for both of us."

Iman just grunts, and sits in the doorway. He doesn't remain still for long though, because I feel his eyes and sense a shift in the air after a few minutes. He walks over to me, sitting agains the wall to my right. My eyes flit open, and I turn my head to face him.

"Were you awake the whole time?" He asks, turning to me. His arm rests on his knee, and his back is against the wall. I shrug slightly as an answer, not using my voice for the sole purpose of using that against him in order to get information, if that's possible. "You've been in a coma for about two years now. We thought that you would have died by now, but your body seems to have gone into hibernation when we captured you. You didn't lose muscle capacity, strength, you didn't go hungry... It was strange, you should have died by now, and your body should have deteriorated. But no, you're alive and well. Earlier tonight was the first time you had eaten in two years." He said. I just swung my head, unwilling to answer him. "Why don't you say anything anyway? Are you a mute? I know you have a tongue, but still you refuse to answer me. It's as if you're purposely trying to anger me."

I sigh and clear my throat. He sits up at this gesture, obviously interested. "My name..." I say, clearing my throat again. "My name is Islea. Islea Nomadia Wolfgang."

For a second, Iman remains silent. "Islea. That's... such a beautiful name. My name is-"

"I know your name, Iman. What I don't know is where I am. What I'm doing here. What you want with me. What time it is. What happened to my family." I say, offended. I make an angry face, trying to intimidate him with my sudden bursts of questions. But he just sighs.

Setting his head against the wall, he draws a breath to speak, "So many questions. I guess I might as well tell you, since we'll be here for a while. You're in a small fort, just west of your little mill. We're south of Solitude, North of Morthal, and far, far East of Markarth. You're supposed to be sold to the slave trade. You see, the southeast trading company has a black market where things such as skooma, slaves, maids, weapons, and other contraband can be sold. You, my dear, are going to be sold there. Shipped to wherever you're needed or wanted. I was considering buying you, but I, of course, don't have the money. We're just the lowly bandits hired to recruit slaves. It's Half past two in the morning, and your family is dead. Your mother is dead. Your brother is dead."

"But I have a father, and a second brother." I say, anxious to find out what I can.

"Your other brother, if not already dead, should be sold to the slave trade as well. I was never told of any other slaves, so maybe he put up too much of a fight, and was killed before he was captured. Your father? No idea." He explained. Well, that answered all of my questions. But I guess I could think of more.

"When am I to be sold? And to whom will I be sold to?" I say, staring him down.

"I have no idea, and I don't know who, but probably a rich noble looking for another maid, or maybe even a concubine." He says with a smirk, "But you know, all concubines have to be broken in before the use of a master." He chuckles deeply, and my heart flutters. Fear begins to consume me once again as he crawls over to me. His elven armor gleams in the still-glowing magelight.

With a small gesture, he grabs my face, and bring his close to mine. His other arm circles around my waist, cupping my lower back. Kneeling before me, he holds up my body to his. His warmth consumes me, and I allow myself to fall into it. He's so warm, that I'm almost hesitant to let go when I feel his arm sliding down my lower back, reaching my hips, and then his hand gropes my ass.

I jerk away though, obviously slightly annoyed and very afraid. "What's wrong, dear? Are you okay?" He asks, looking into my eyes again, with worry sewn on his face.

"Please... Don't touch me..." I muster saying, shrinking as far away as these shackles let me. "I just... want to go home... back to the mill... back to my family," tears slide down my face, and he holds me again, hugging me, his head on my shoulder, mine on his.

"Shh, sh sh sh now... It'll all be okay, I promise. I wont hurt you." I begin to cry deeper, the first time since my family's dead. I was still trying to accept the fact that my family was basically dead, that it had been two years since my abduction. That I had been here for that whole time. That someone was showing me affection. That I was actually okay, and for once, warm. It felt good, and I tried to hug him back, but the shackles held my arms above my head.

I hear a set of footsteps down the hall, and the warmth of my fellow kinsman leaves my body as he lets go of me. I lift my head to see him return to his station at the door, welcoming who I assume was the gatekeeper.

The gatekeeper, an ungodly sight to behold, stood in the doorway, talking to Iman. He looked like the fish that my father sometimes brought in for dinner. He was scaly, but with a human face, and a word from a book I read came to mind.

Argonian.

They were a lizard race. I had only read about the creatures, but they were capable of language understanding and functions that were similar to Men and Mir. I knelt there, awestruck, waiting to see what the gatekeeper would do.

As he walked over to me and unshackled me, I watched Iman follow the gatekeeper. He then picked me up, since my legs had obviously not walked in a long time. My arms were stiff, and so reaching around and pulling myself around Iman's neck was a chore and a half. He carried me down the stone corridor, following the gatekeeper. We made a few turns that I didn't bother to remember, and entered a hall that looked like it was fit for a king. Walking to the right of the hall, the gatekeeper opened a rusty iron door that lead to a much smaller corridor with doors lined up on the left and right. Mine was the third on the right, and inside was a small bed, a bucket, a tiny drawer, and a candlestick with a candle. A small stool in the corner with cobwebs on it was pulled out and brushed off. Iman set me in the bed and sat on the stool, petting my hair.

"Watch her until she falls asleep, then go see The Master. Apparently he has a task for you. And it's big, so you'd better hurry." The gatekeeper said in his raspy reptilian voice.

My eyes fluttered shut, and all I remember before I drifted to a more restful sleep, was Iman's sweet words intertwined with a strange tune, "Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear..."


End file.
